


Every You, Every Me

by karrenia_rune



Category: Kingkiller Chronicles - Patrick Rothfuss
Genre: Gen, New Year's Resolutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-29 16:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On friendships, the nature and frequency of taking baths and everything in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every You, Every Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twincy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twincy/gifts).



Disclaimer: The Kingkiller Chronicles is a two-part fantasy series created by Patrick Rothfuss, it is not mine.  
Notes: the title is from the Placebo song by the same name. I claim only the words...

"Every You, Every Me" by karrenia

p>His hair stood up in stiff bristles and felt like tiny ice filaments to the touch. He would have complained louder and longer had he not been occupied with hauling bucket by bucket water to the bathtub on the second floor of the inn. The water was not even for something as practical as dousing the hearth fire in the common room, or a less every day task such as putting out a fire in a barn.

“No, no”, Bast muttered to himself as he lurched into the inn across the common room, past the bemused and rather preoccupied stare of the only other soul in the inn, and then on and up the stairs to the second floor.

Kvothe wanted a bath , then by all the powers that be, he would get a bath, but Bat would be damned before he would go looking for scented oils or candles, or some such other kinds of nonsense.

The twinned buckets that Bast carried were dumped onto the floor near the hearth and then crouched down in order to pour the water into a kettle and warm it up. While he waited for the water to boil Bast began to whistle a dissoant, wordless, but not entirely unpleasant melody.

On the far side of the chamber Kvothe lay in an about a foot or two of previously heated water, idly stirring it with the tips of his fingers. Partially from the fact that he hated to bathe in cold, tepid water and partially from the fact that he knew it would aggrative his protégé, he called out, “Isn’t that water warm yet! What are you waiting for? For it to magically ignite and fly over here?”

In the back of his mind it briefly occurred to Kvothe that he may have been laying it on a bit too thick but he had learned that the push-pull, half-mocking, half-serious nature of their relations hip was the one that seemed to work the best. Anything else, well, just might be out of the question. Bast, was prickly and he had his pride, but in all Kvothe’s experience Bast was probably one of the best, adamantly loyal, and stubborn protégé, no, friend that he had ever had.

Friends, and he had very few in his lifetime, but those he had had he treasured, but somehow he he could never quite hold onto them, or circumstances, or the world at large would rip them out of his life. It was easier to be a loner; if something went wrong there was really no one else to blame except his sorry self. In the back of his mind, “AH, we’re in a rare mood tonight, aren’t we, old bean?’ Stop it, Bast, and that scribe down there are remarkable observant when they choose to be, so stop wallowing, this instant!’

Bast uttered a low growl and half turned to face Kvothe, “I really don’t have the answer to that, unless you’ve been keeping the secret of magically warming water from me.”

“No, no, that’s not it at all,” Kvothe replied in a more soothing and mollifying tones. “Just bring it over here when its’s ready and remember to use those soft scented soaps we got in a week ago. They’re in the cupboard by the towel rack.”

“Of course,” Bast muttered.

“What’s got you in a snit?” Kvothe asked.”Don’ t tell that you’re troubled over the presence of the scribe?”

”Of course not.”

“Then what is it?” Kvothe demanded.

“I’m freezing, my hair feels like tiny needles of ice and… Bast trailed off his breath coming in tight bursts of inhale and exhale. “And that’s just the thing. How many times do I have to warn you that if you stay in  
there too long you’ll more than likely turn into a prune.”

“Hmm, let me think,” Kvothe replied. “Today’s Tuesday, and I always take my baths on Tuesdays and Thursdays and twice on Sundays, “ he raised himself so that he was no longer as completely submerged as he had been only moments before. And raised his hands out of the water, seemingly in order to count on his fingers before he said aloud: “That would make the number of times you have issued that warning to three hundred and five, plus one.”

“Correct,” Bast growled. “You don’t have to rub it in, you cheeky bastard.”

“But you love it when I do,” Kvothe remarked and then added. “That water should be warm by now.”

“Yeah, It’s coming, and so am I.”

Kvothe sighed and closed his eyes sinking back into the water even as Bast poured the freshly heated additions into the tub. “I know, that you, being you, probably wouldn’t understand the pure pleasure of being warm, immersed and clean. Okay, maybe the clean part, Bast, I heartily recommend that you at least give it a try.”

“Don’t tell me that is supposed to be a lecture on personal hygiene,” Bast griped. “If so, please spare me and you can perform your abuluions by yourself.”

“Come on, Bast, humor me.”

“Where did you say the soap was?’

“In the cabinet by the towel rack.”

Bast went to the cabinet to fetch the scented soaps and then came back with them and knelt down and then in a much less obstinate tone he asked Kvothe to flip over onto his back so that he could rub the soap into his master’s skin. He continued onto his front, face, legs and toes and somehow without his or his master being aware of it, that same wordless melody he had been humming a while earlier, started up again. Kvothe, with his eyes closed and responding to the gentle pressure of the heated water and the cleansing, began to hum along in harmony.

Bast shook his head and sighed. “Humor you, of course, you know I would. Haven’t always been loyal, and I always will be. I still think you’ll turn into a prune or something worse.” He sighed again and set aside the soaps and heaved his master’s prone and sleepy but clean form out of the tub and handed him a bath towel. “Your clothes are on the bed. “I’ll see you down in the common room.”

“Oh, of course, Bast, of course,” Kvothe muzzily replied. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> You might get a hint of an established relationship of the slash nature if you blink...


End file.
